silk skin, glass bones
by vivevoce
Summary: ... the scars on his back say otherwise. Cain is strong. Good thing too, because the events of his life play out like a fairytale. Pity. Those never end happily. Sound of a Boy Hatching, retold.


And this is why.

i.

_Rapunzel_

It's gone. He's only had it for a week and now it is gone.

Cain lays his hand on the gilt bars of the cage. He reaches for the down still clinging to the bottom, runs a finger along the empty perch.

The canary had been butter-yellow and sang as sweetly as a flute; always hopping nearer and nearer to him whenever he approached. Unlike his tutors and servants and cooks who'd back away, unapologetic mumbles trailing the wind behind their passages.

He'd been so close to finally getting it to land on his finger. Parrots could do that, he'd read. Cain's been practicing for ages, coaxing sooty sparrows in the larch outside to hop onto his palm. He'd tried millet, oats, rice.

It never works. Even the birds don't wish to touch him. He's confined to the windowsill, too many stories high, while they flap away. Like everyone else in his life.

That's why he'd been so delighted when his father presented him with this newest feathery gift. He was touched that Father had noticed.

::

He finds it in the garden, a yellow bundle of shredded sinew and flattened feathers. Blood soaks into the soil beneath it. A hawk must've eaten it, or a stray cat.

_But I'd closed the cage_, Cain thinks numbly, holding the mangled bunch in his hands. _I did._

He buries it with as much ceremony as he knows how, but it's still such a pitiful funeral. The mounds in the neat row behind it are just as poor, he thinks.

His only friends. He tries to remember them.

There was that white rabbit from a year ago… it's the one by the daffodil patch, he's sure of it. And the ginger tabby from Christmas; it's buried beneath the maple sapling. He'd fancied that its eyes had matched his own. The Setter pup and Springer spaniel… are… they're along the path of stepping stones? Hidden under the crocuses?

_I never even named you,_ he thinks with a start, realizing how long each had lasted. _There was never any time._ He looks back down at the mound under his hands and thinks he's going to be sick.

::

There's a sound of footsteps to his left. Cain turns his head around, slowly, apprehensive the shoes will belong to his father. He hadn't realized it had gotten so late; he'd meant to go in before it got dark.

The shoes, to his relief, are loafers; dark brown, made with good leather. But nowhere near as expensive as the sort his father likes to wear. Cain allows himself to look up.

The stranger is tall, broad enough that he blocks the moonlight. He has extremely fair hair—almost white-blond—and wears a smart, unbuttoned suit jacket. He cuts a surprisingly gallant picture in the darkness; Cain expects a horse to trot up at any moment. Astonishment widens his eyes as he takes in Cain's disheveled state.

"Who are you?"

His eyes are too soft, too kindly concerned, despite Cain's sharpness. Cain is embarrassed to be discovered crying but doesn't say anything further. Dirt under his fingernails or not, he's still the son of a count and needs to come across as such. He bites his tongue and scrubs his eyes calmly. His head hurts from crying.

"What are you doing in the middle of the night," the man finally asks. Odd. The visitors usually don't converse with him.

"The little bird died. I'm making a tomb for him."

Cain's words sound disturbingly matter-of-fact, even to him. Only because there is no derision or fear in the man does he bother answering at all. The man just looks at him, still with that uncommon concern. Suddenly it irritates Cain to be caught in such a vulnerable and grubby state.

Crying in the garden. What a sight he makes.

"What are you staring at?" he snaps instead. "Are my eyes that strange?" Instinct as much as paranoia draws him back to that old insecurity. Then Cain spots the textbook under his arm. He's promptly distracted.

"What kind of book is that?"

"Ah, it's a medicine book!" The man blinks and recovers hastily; he looks almost innocent with his round blue eyes, however much bigger he is than Cain. Cain feels so much older all of a sudden.

"I am a medical student. But my family went bankrupt and I had to quit school. I had no choice but to study on my own."

_School_. He's been to school. Cain feels envious but stops himself. Something about the sad, honest quality in the man's voice. _Come, _it invites and coaxes, at least in Cain's mind. _Let your guard down. _

Something occurs to him, in increments, and he says his thoughts without being aware. Letting down his hair.

"You can see me?"

He stares at the man. Then the world blots itself out in black spots.

ii.

_Cinderella_

"Cain!"

His father's voice. Cain hits the ground with one knee and jolts back to consciousness. His back hurts. Lines of fire stick to the back of his nightgown. It's opened up again. Slowly he's aware that he's being held up and it's the stranger's face that greets his blurred vision.

Terror comes as fast as comprehension. This man is a medical student; he'll recognize the cause of these wounds… But right now, he's not looking at Cain and that's a relief.

"M-master," the man stutters. Oh, that was fear. Cain winces and turns his head obediently.

"Father."

His father's eyes frighten him.

"You've seen his wounds." His father's voice is low and menacing. He curses. "It can't be helped now." He addresses the man still supporting Cain. "From now on you are going to be Cain's servant." Decisive. A condemnation as much as a command. "Now both of you come here!"

As his father wrenches him upright and drags him away, Cain finds himself in horror at how quickly the man had acquiesced. How easily he gave away his freedom. He'd wanted to be a medical student. Now he was a servant; demoted, trapped.

His father jerks his arm and he stumbles. Alexis is furious. Cain knows what's coming. His back burns itself along old trails.

Cain realizes this man's presence won't do anything to deter his father. He realizes this man is now in no position to help him. Hope dies as quickly as it has grown in his chest and he doesn't try to pull away.

Cain apologizes. He begs. He cowers.

::

The clock strikes midnight, yet nothing is over. Cain's back is still laid open, raw. His spine aches with the shocks.

"Do you not understand? I do not like to do this!" Another lash and Cain cries wordlessly. "I am doing this for you! So that you can attain God's forgiveness!"

The man watches helplessly in a corner. His father's onslaught is ferocious, but Cain faces his punishment with resignation.

This man is no savior. There is no cavalry coming. No magic, or fairies, or anyone to whisk him away. Cain's wishes die with the stars they are on. Still-born.

::

He doesn't remember how he gets to be flat on his stomach, his back being taken care of by the stranger. What was his name? He tries to remember through a wash of agony. The wounds are being dapped with something, hydrogen peroxide or alcohol. It stings viciously, like rows of teeth sinking into his nerves.

_Riff, take him away._

It burns, no matter how gentle the man tries to be. He feels he owe him an explanation. He knows how bad this looks.

"It's… it's my fault." Cain can feel eyes on him, so he keeps his own on the pillow. "I wasn't supposed to go out." Awkwardly, bravely, he props himself up on his elbows and tries to turn around and face him.

"Master Cain," is the immediate protest. The man, Riff, sounds shocked. His wounds must be very grave. They sure feel like it. Cain endeavors.

"Don't misunderstand." A smile comes onto his face. It feels chipped, an old mosaic that's been trodden on too many times. No one ever believes him. "The truth is, my father loves me very much."

Not even himself.

"On the day that mother drank the poison and committed suicide…"

The man listens very carefully as Cain tries in earnest to defend his father. "The reason for this is that I have to learn all about countship and become a worthy count. This must be the reason!" His voice sounds desperate, even to himself.

Riff seems pensive, but sympathetic. He doesn't believe him.

Cain wouldn't either.

A cruel parent, a trusting child. Classic Stockholm.

iii.

_Snow White_

Slowly, Cain comes to trust entirely in Riff, this strange, quiet, kindly man.

Riff is exactly seven things to Cain, as of his instatement; Confidant, Attendant, Shoe Tier, Shirt Buttoner, Story Teller, Comforter, and Friend.

The last one is the most important. Riff is his first friend. One that can talk back to him and doesn't die within the week.

Ignored by his father, Cain is nervous with the total attentiveness of his new helper. Maybe it was his former well-to-do history, but Riff doesn't act completely like a servant. Servants do their job and walk away, blank and indifferent. Riff responds to him when no one else will. Riff smiles at him without being ordered to. Riff _cares_. Cain's told him everything he knows about himself and everything Riff takes with a nod and a smile.

He shows him his poisons. He shows him his aunt. He lets him tend to his scars every night.

Nothing fazes him.

Because of this, Cain grows happier and healthier under his attention—truly, for the first time, happy. He blossoms under Riff's care. He glows. The happy child he was meant to be. (Having a friend that doesn't die within a week truly is a novel experience.)

And then it happens.

Cain is examining the sugar under a microscope, curious of its properties. Riff had let him borrow his medical text, which includes a section on chemistry, naturally. Cain doesn't mention what he's looking for or why.

Lately, he keeps having these horrible headaches. He'll walk into a room and forget why he's there. He's always drowsy. He notices that using the toilet is a painful trial, no matter what he just ate. And he vomits half the time after he finishes his tea.

Always, every time he drinks tea.

Cain's budding knowledge of poisons allows him to recognize the signs. He knows what it is before he sees it.

There. The composition that's entirely different from glucose and is instead…

"_Arsenic!"_

He turns around, and there's Riff, staring at the book in horror. Cain is numb. He should have seen this coming, of course.

It's so simple, so elegant. His father to a T. Who needs fancy cakes after all, poisoned apples? Cain loves sweets. The amount of sugar he puts in his tea alone is guaranteed to be an ample dosage.

Riff is still in shock, and voices the very thing Cain's been trying to avoid.

"Is it possible that… the master has been putting arsenic in the sugar every day?"

The truth stings, like a lash across his face. "Shut up!"

_Don't cry, don't cry, stop it…_

"That's why you've recently been ill,.. and you've noticed it yourself! Which is why you don't want sugar in—"

"I said _shut up! _Father is not trying to kill me! This can't be…"

He wants closure. He wants to be told that it's a lie. He wants comfort, and this is the one thing Riff can't provide.

"I want to see Aunt Augusta again. Please, Riff. Just once."

::

Without warning, Aunt Augusta dies and leaves him Oedipal. She was his mother, and she's now left him in a nightmare with no chance of waking up. (He knew he always hated his eyes for a reason.) Cain backs away from the truth, sharp and broken as the glass glittering in her dead white hair. His father must hate him. How has he not seen this before?

Cold trepidation crawls up his spine and numbly, he has Riff take him home. He knows what has to be done.

::

His father greets him in the kitchen. Cain keeps a careful distance, terror growing like a parasite in his chest. He knows what's coming, and he hopes it doesn't come to this.

His father is not angry. He makes him a cup of tea instead, Earl Grey. His favorite. And there. A dash of sugar.

His father hands it to him and Cain holds it up to his face, expecting the tainted, laced scent of apple. Smells instead the scent of roses. Just as well. He closes his eyes and takes a sip.

When he falls to the floor, cup broken beside him, he makes sure to spill scalding liquid on his father's expensive, beloved shoes.

iv.

_Snow Queen_

Riff is doing his tie for him. It feels like a noose. Cain is to meet with the entire Hargreaves family today, after having killed his own father.

_You really are a devil. _

Riff is tying his shoes. His eyes feel prickly, embedded with shards. One of the knots is loose. He'd better fix th…

_Remember this! You will never find happiness! You will never find love in your life! _

"Master Cain, the carriage is ready." Just walk outside, get into the carriage…

_You will die all alone!_

"…Master Cain?"

_::_

_Don't forget… Cain is the name of the first person who killed his relative._

::

Linen. Blue and stiff, but comforting against his face. Cain buries his face into Riff's jacket, tries to erase all evidence of his guilt. Remembers the same hug that the man gave him, after he promised he wouldn't cry anymore.

_Don't be silly. I'll always stay by your side. That's what I want._

Riff's fingers are stroking through his hair, patting it softly at the crown. The way his father should have done. Eternity, then. He'd said the words so easily.

_Let me comfort you, Master Cain._

"We're going to be late, sir."

::

The ring feels so heavy on his finger.

**A/N: I love Cain Saga. For anyone who has not read it yet, give it a try. Because oh my god, once you get past the incestuous relationships, graphic gore, graphic murders, organ harvesting, necromancy, and mental rape, it is incredible. I didn't explain that very well at all, I noticed. But read it and you'll know what I mean. Count Cain is on crack. I love every bit of it. Even the blatant gay undertones. **

**_Especially the blatant gay undertones._**

**Oh Cain and Riff. **

**I freaking love you.  
><strong>

**(Caeru gets huge love for introducing me.)**

**For everyone who's reading this because they actually like Cain Saga? Hope you enjoyed that (: Count Cain needs more love.  
><strong>

**As always, tell me what you think.  
><strong>

**vivevoce**

**PS. The Snow Queen is a not-very-well-known fairytale. Wiki it up though, as it's a bit long to explain on here. I liked it.  
><strong>


End file.
